


All Pent Up

by lactoria



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, Rough Sex, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-26
Updated: 2014-05-26
Packaged: 2018-01-26 16:35:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1695095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lactoria/pseuds/lactoria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For such a saint, you’ve got a dirty fucking mouth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Pent Up

You like it rough, and strangely enough so does he—at least since rediscovering his bulge and the stress relieving wonders of concupiscence.  He’s got sweeps of pent up aggression to release and he’s taking it out on you.

"Turn over and present your nook to me."

"For such a saint, you’ve got a dirty fucking mouth."

"Shut up," Kankri snaps through gritted teeth, his vibrant red bulge lashing between your thighs.  You spread them wide, grinning toothily at the childish impatience he’s exhibiting.  The longer you stall the angrier he gets.  He waits all of five seconds before flipping you over himself.

"Ooo, such force, I’m so fucking trigger—"

A hand cuts through the still air, delivering a sharp (but light) smack to your mouth.

"Don’t you dare mock triggers.  I’ve taught you better than that."  Nails dig into your hips, haul you up onto your knees, elevating your backside.  His bulge, slick with arousal, laps at swollen nook lips.

"You’re already stimulated.  You like it when I degrade you, don’t you Karkat?"

You’re too busy swallowing your moans to fire back a scathing reply because just like that he’s wormed between the puffy, pink folds of your nook and thrust himself into the hilt.  Pressure explodes inside you, the harsh penetration knocking the wind out of you.  You lock up, unintentionally tightening around him like a vice, and shudder violently.

He heaves forward, hands gripping at fistfuls of tummy chub (you hate when he grabs you there), back arching like a bow to sprinkle kisses across your shoulderblades.

His prehensile length squirms avidly inside you, licking at your walls until they quiver.  You counter by clamping down, contracting, extracting broken moans from the haughty bastard.

"Ohhhh, Karkat, such a good, _good_ boy…”

"Can it, teach.  I’m not trying to earn extra credit.  _Fuck_ me.”

He swats one of horns in chastisement; during these kinds of pailing sessions the only one with vulgarity privileges is him.

He thinks he’s punishing you when he rears back and proceeds to pound you repeatedly, but you love every second of the abuse.  A tried and true glutton for pitch savagery, you slump into your crossed arms, cant your hips and accept his hammering bulge—grimacing in guilty pleasure as loud squelching fills the air.  You’re so wet your legs are doused, your hungry nook tugging at his length slipping in and out without relent.

His panting is precious, a surefire sign of the pleasure he reaps from this.

Under normal circumstances, your vocabulary is quite expansive, but when he’s got you crumbled beneath him you can barely manage much more than a whimpering litany of _fuck me fuck me fuck me **please**_

Teacher’s proud when you ~~beg~~ ask nicely.

Blindly, desperately, you stuff a hand between your legs, seizing your own neglected bulge in a chokehold and squeeze it until you see stars the instant he erupts inside you.

And Kankri, shrewd, prude, pent-up Kankri, comes profusely, copiously, hard and scorching.  His engorged bulge stretches your inner walls as he sprays, every powerful, orgasmic pulse firing off round after round until he’s spent and you feel uncomfortably full.

You try to peek over your shoulder, eager to see his face in-climax, but before you can snap a mental photo he grabs a clump of hair, slams you face down and mutters right into your ear:

_Come._

And you do.


End file.
